


Barry Allen, Ace Reporter

by writers_blocc



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr: westallensmutweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 04:56:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7208654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writers_blocc/pseuds/writers_blocc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another life, Barry could've been a reporter for Central City Picture News. </p><p>My submission for WestAllenSmutweek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barry Allen, Ace Reporter

**Author's Note:**

> It's almost 1 a.m. here - so this is technically late, but I gave it my best shot. This is to fulfill Tuesday's role play prompt. I hope you enjoy.

“This is Ace Reporter Barry Allen with CCPN, back to you in the studio.” Wink, smile, points to mirror.

“What are you doing Barry?”

Barry freezes. Focusing on the reflection of Iris perched against the doorframe, arms crossed under her breast; her lip pulled taught in a straight line that doesn’t necessarily reach her eyes because, yeah, she’s amused.

He lifts one shoulder, his upper lip quivers into a smirk. “Nothing.”

“Uh huh.”

She walks into their shared bedroom, stopping behind him. She’s a good foot shorter than him but she somehow manages to look around his shoulder to hold his gaze in the mirror.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Well,” he stutters, hand flying to his nape. So okay, maybe, saying nothing wouldn't accurately describe the situation but it was definitely not _something_.  

A few weeks ago Iris interviewed with the Live Action News team of Picture News and (much to her to disposition) got the job. As a token of welcome, the station gifted her with a shotgun microphone inboxed with the station's logo.

Since the day she brought it home, it has sat proudly on the shelves that displayed their wedding photos, books and other memorabilia.

So really, it's not his fault. It’s not that the mic is taunting him per say, but it was definitely _not_ telling him to leave it alone either.

“I - I,” and what the hell is he supposed to say. “Sorry,” the word stretches out, extending the vowel and it makes her giggle.

“It’s okay Barry.”

Iris kisses his shoulder blade then nips at the skin there afterward.

“I think you’d make a hot reporter.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm,” she hums, idly letting her hands travel down the grooves of his abs. They pause right above his navel and her nail traces the outline before dipping her finger inside. It’s enough to make Barry shiver, even more so as her tongue slides to the center of his back. Her hand falls to the waistband of his pajama pants. “But if you’re going to be an Ace Reporter, well, then you have to dress the part.”

She watches a thick, brown eyebrow slant curiously. “Oh.”

Iris edges him to turn around, pushing him back against the drawers of the dresser only to leave him for a moment to walk over to the cushioned chair where his suit from last night lay folded. She hangs the red tie over her finger and holds it out for him to take.

“Put this on.”

He does as instructed.

“There, now you look the part.”

Iris assesses him, standing there in gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips accenting the deep cut of his V and her gaze travels up to the smooth panels of his chest, the disheveled bed hair and the red skinny tie that now hangs loosely around his neck.

Perfect.

He looks just perfect.

“So, Reporter Allen. Can I call you Reporter Allen?” Barry gulps, his mouth doing that sputtery puffy thing that means he doesn’t exactly know what to say and that’s good enough for her. “What would you like to know?”

“Well,” he clears his throat because this is turning a corner he was not expecting. “Ms. West, how-”

“Allen.” Iris corrects, “Mrs. West-Allen.”

“Mrs. West-Allen, what do you have planned, here, today, in Central City?”

Iris drags her nail up the crevice of rows centered on his abdominal, stopping at his pec and planting her hand there, flat against the skin. “Well Reporter Allen, I plan on being fucked until I can’t remember my name.”

His jaw steels. When she talks to him like that - when she looks at him with clear unbridled want like this, it justs...

“That’s so damn hot. Iris.”

“Uh, uh, uh,” she walks her fingers along the trail of light hair that starts on his jaw. “I’m just a mere civilian you're interviewing on the street. So,” she plants one soft kiss against his lips and breathes against him, “Mrs. West-Allen will have to do.”

“But what about your husband?”

“What about him?”

He curses low and long under his breath, his nostrils flaring out with a gust of wind that has Iris groaning in response. There is want there, evident in the dark pools of her eyes and it takes everything in Barry to retain himself.

To keep himself in check.

But when her tongue drags across her bottom lip - well now she’s just testing him.

And all bets are off as his lips crash into hers, forcefully, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and latching them together for the first time today.

He’s careful not to drop the mic, twisting his arm around to place it safely back on the dresser before he wraps it around her waist and lifts her up. Iris' legs wrap around his torso and her heels cross at the top of his butt, planting them there as she sucks his tongue harder.

“You know,” he breaks away for an instant. His mouth touches hers but forgoes a kiss. “I don’t usually do this. Sleep with my sources, I mean.”

She licks his lips, first the bottom and then the top, sucking the flesh between hers. “There’s a first time for everything. What else do you need to know Reporter Allen?”

Barry shuffles them towards the bed, hands full of her round ass and he squeezes the soft flesh sitting in his palms.

“How do you want it?”

Iris smacks her lips against his, tongue swiping down to his adam's apple next to suck at the pulse of his jugular. “Hard.”

“Is that it?”

“Fast.”

Barry grumbles, incoherently as his shin touches the edge of their bed and he drops Iris down as softly as possible to the pillow top mattress. He watches her scoot back to the headboard, lifting the S.T.A.R. Labs t-shirt over her head in one go, shimmying out of her black underwear next.

Barry races to catch up with her. For as long as he can remember he’s always just been a little too slow when it came to her. Really, who could blame the guy? Her beauty is distracting as all hell.

“Leave it on.” She tugs, on the tie when goes to remove it.

And, “okay,” Barry smiles like an idiot, kicking his pants and underwear away before he climbs on top of the bed and over her.

Iris gasp, mouth parting as her hair billows out over the sheets as Barry takes the rock hard pebble of her nipple into his mouth. She tries to be still, she tries hard but when his tongue lashes out to trace her areola, it’s all she can do to keep from flipping him over and inserting rod A into slot B. The warm feeling in the pit of her stomach grows into a molding hot pool when he bites down, pulls then licks.

“Shi - Barry.”

“Ace Reporter,” he smirks against her, licking away at the soft skin. “Mrs. West-Allen, are you enjoying your time here in Central City so far?”

Her legs open wide in response and Barry sinks into her. The upper part of his chest lines up with her center and she can feel her slick folds rise to wet his stomach, and she squeezed him, needing the friction.

“Mrs. West-Allen?”

Iris is too wrapped up to comprehend anything besides the feeling of him against her. Her hands get lost in his nape, tugging once, twice and she has to have his lips on her so she pulls him up. Their teeth clink together at first but when he tilts his head slightly to the right they slot into place. Her hand leaves shortly after to trail down to his hard member that she can feel against her thigh. She grasp it, tight in her grip to find him fully erect and twitching.

She strokes him, feeling the immediate reaction in his mouth as he kisses her harder, nibbling at her lips. He sucks her bottom lip in between his own before releasing it with a loud pop that has her reeling back with a loud moan.

“Good,” he guesses, teasing.

But the teasing smirk drops clear of his face when she circles the head of his shaft around her clit, down to her opening where he finds her to be warm, wanton and ready for him. All for him.

His stomach kicks something fierce, and his arms buckle as he tries to hold himself upright. But he holds strong. “Mrs. West-Allen,” her voice is a broken, watery whimper in response. “You want me, right? You want me?” He knows it not a question, not really, but a fact that is destined to happen. It's only a matter of time.

Her fist moves sloppily, pumping the long shaft in her palm, resting just below the bulbous head that begs against her opening - and if he would just push his hips forward, even an inch, he could be inside of her.

“Yes, yes, yes.”

She. He. They. Both, try to control their lower anatomy but she is driving him to the brink of insanity. And it breaks. He pumps into the grip of her hand, sliding into the warm glove of her entrance.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Fuckity, fuck. Fuck.

Iris’ back bows off the bed, her hand that gripped his side moves up to tug at the loose hanging tie. She pulls, dragging him down to her neck. He sucks the soft spot behind her ear and her pelvis wind up to meet his in response.

“You like that?” His voice is growl like, rough and impassioned.

His answer comes as she spreads her legs open wider, fingers drawing up to the knot that ties the silk together as she plants her feet down into the mattress. “I asked you a question Mrs. West-Allen, don’t keep me waiting.”

“Please.”

“Please,” Barry grunts. “What?” He slides between her folds. “Tell me.”

“Fuh- _k_ ,” she can’t say it. Oh, she wants too. She wants to tell him exactly what she wants - what she desperately needs but her brain is addled with the pleasure focusing in the central part of her body. Her head tosses from side to side when he strokes her slowly, pushing and pulling until he's buried to the hilt inside of her.

They hiss at their match heat in unison. It’s always been so intense.

From their very first time to now. Always. Always. _Always_.

Barry leans into her at the contact, swiping away beads of sweat with his tongue that he finds at her sternum. And he grinds into the tight ring of her folds clutching to his shaft and Iris can feel every vein, every ridge and the slight curve of him when he moves.

“Barry.”

He grunts. It’s almost animalistic and he pulls her hands away from the tie, away from him and above her head.

She mewls, writhing against him, biting at the tail end of her lip and he pumps his hips back, forwards and grinding into her again, circling and circling until the base of his shaft creates a pattern against her clit.

Her breath catches short in her throat, holding there before it releases into a shallow moan that sound off on the four walls of their bedroom. It dies slowly as she buries her face in the crook of his shoulder then surprises him when she licks him from that point to his cheek bone, hot, wet and sloppy.

And playtime is over.

Barry barrels down, switching both of her wrist to hold in his before sliding his body back, drawing out his length. His eyes snap to hers in the early rays of sunlight peek through the curtains, and when she gives the slightest tilt of her head, his hips press forward. Demanding that she take all of him.

Iris is embarrassingly close. It’s not going to take much to get her there, to push her over the cliff that catapults her into a high. “Oh my _God_ ,” She thrust against him, taking every inch of that long dick that he has to offer. The slaps of their thighs sound off wetly against each other, and she spreads hers wider, taking him like a champ. “Oh, fuh - Barry,” she moans his name, loudly, through clenched teeth.

Barry drops his hands to their side and lifts her legs, resting them over his forearms to lift her closer and dropping himself down hard. Once, twice, he grinds himself against her and her stomach constricts. The orgasm bubbling right under the surface.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head, leg starting to shake. “ _Please._ ” It’s the only proper word she can manage.

His hips lift, dragging and pulling and charges back down. Finding that sweet spot inside of her that makes Iris scream.

It’s too much. Too much. “Oh - fuh, please. Please.”

Her body shakes, the lewd, wet sounds of their bodies collide until her body stills to a stop, like she’s been flash frozen. Barry is relentless. He needs her to come like he needs air to breath. Like he needs to see her smile when he wakes up in the morning.

His hips crash against her, his head bumping against the patch of nerves inside of her. The noise in the room grows louder with their shared cries and it all it takes is a twist of his hips and she explodes in pure white heat.

She makes noises that even she’s unfamiliar with because she can’t properly articulate. She can’t even see beyond the stars clouding her vision. All she can do is feel, and try - try to hold on because every single nerve in her body is pulsating and she can feel it from the root of her scalp down to the freshly painted tips of her toes.

Barry is not far behind her. He calls her name loud enough that he’s pretty sure the neighbors can hear him from across the lawn and he just manages to pull out and pump himself twice. His seed spills onto her mound. He watches it splash over the soft curls of her apex and up to the underside of her breast. It’s thick, creamy and hot. Barry can’t resist rubbing it into her skin. He scoops up the last bit and traces it around her lips.

Iris draws her tongue out, sucking his finger into her mouth to clean his mess away.

“God, I love you.”

She pulls his finger out just enough to lick the pad of his index finger, and smiles. “I don’t think my husband would appreciate you saying that Reporter Allen.”

Barry falls over her in laughter, kissing wetly at her cheek, her nose and chin before catching her lips. “Trust me, the lucky S.O.B. won’t mind.”

 


End file.
